


Wounded Warrior

by Sciencefisher



Category: The Chronicles of Thomas Covenant - Stephen R. Donaldson
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-15 20:04:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12327921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sciencefisher/pseuds/Sciencefisher
Summary: This is the first chapter in a novel I am working on after the style popularized by Stephen R Donaldson. In this original work a set of inherently good characters arrives in a land of pervasive evil and corruption instead of the reverse.The story centers on the last two survivors of a doomed village who attempt to warn the rest of the world of the impending arrival of that world’s eternal foe - the dark giants. Armed with a giant-sized sword and an ancient stone relic that is the repository of all the earth’s lore, they attempt to survive the evil of the land and carry their dire warning to the current rulers only to find them unprepared to receive their message and just as undeserving of the salvation that they represent.Ultimately, they must seek to save a world that cannot see its danger only to learn that they themselves may be the greatest danger of all.





	1. Chapter 1

   
ROOF OF THE WORLD  
   
The sky at thirty thousand feet was a flush of blue that few mortals would ever see. Cerulean and featureless it had an intensity that could make a man feel glorious and immaterial at the same time. Kalan was such a man and the eternal sky far above the village of Volkarinon captivated him utterly. It made a faultless dome above him while below, in every direction, a rolling sea of cloud tops extended as far as the eye could see.  It was easy to imagine himself as a resident of some celestial estate - powerful, almost godlike. He breathed in the air like a rare balm and at times the vista would nearly make him weep. He was a man of unbridled passion and the longing in his soul was only exacerbated by such a potent world.  
There was a kind of violence hidden by the seething clouds, it was ever present and loomed in the background every day just out of the reach of his touch but less from his wandering mind. Gale force wind whipped at him like a flail against the stone outcropping where he knelt - seeking to stamp out his very breath in the rarefied air. It could out cry the loudest hawk and made speaking difficult even at close range. The absolute bitterness of the extreme heights should have frozen him solid in moments but Kalan did not feel the cold even on exposed arms barely covered by his vellum tunic. The harsh elements of the peak could not touch him or any of the Volkarin. They were a hardy race but even their native toughness could not account for their resistance to the bitter extremes of the Regalith.  
A stones throw below him on a narrow path stood the group’s path-keeper - Alaria, like an angelic sentinel, she warded them against the dangers of the icy peaks. A gentle, icy  blue flame danced and flickered atop the slender wooden staff she used to focus her arcane lore. It seemed impossibly weak in such conditions but at its heart it was sure. Kalan could feel its eldritch energies reaching out to him, steadying him on the ledge midway up one of the walls of the exposed valley, shielding him from the worst of the cold but even that did not suffice. While the efforts of a keeper could ward off the cold's fatality it was the mystical diet of Ankira root that he was attempting to harvest from the surface of the gutrock that worked the most power in his life.  The master keepers in Volkarinon turned the vital root into a host of tonics and elixirs with their lore, that permitted the continuation of the Volkarin way of life. Ankira formed the foundation of life above the tree line, its tough fibers were woven into both thread and cloth, its seed could be used to start fire or ground into flour. It was said that Ankira alone could sustain life in the absence of any other sustenance and in the capable hands of a healer could even ward off death.  
The people of Volkarinon were both wise and peaceful and they saw in the earth more than just stone and ice. They saw a living world filled with power and a beauty so severe that they were compelled to serve it in every thing they did. Those of the lore class would spend long hours contemplating its deep movements and reading in the very stone itself their propose for their own lives and the lives of all of its inhabitants. From the living stone they could draw water and light and heat through secret whispers that reminded him of song. In turn the earth sheltered them, gave them strength to endure the harsh environments in air so thin no other humans could exist.  
All his life he had felt different somehow, he could see the beauty but not the power and where others could make meaning out of the simplest cleft in the rock, he saw nothing but dead stone. It had not been easy to be so close to a people that were his blood kin and yet still be so separate when all he longed for was to be like them. Always on edge, he had to shield his thoughts from others lest those more perceptive than himself sense his otherness and turn caring eyes his way. His pride could not endure their looks of concern or worse - pity, so he had mastered a thousand ways of distracting himself. He even regularly engaged in many Volkarin mental exercises to keep his wayward thoughts to himself even though they gave him no peace or insights of his own about the living earth that he served with equal diligence.  
Kalan paused from his musings of the peaks fierce beauty and returned his focus to the group of brown-gray roots that he had ritually tied off from the web-like network they formed directly on the sacred stone of the mountain. Even with his stunted sense of the earth he could see that they had turned dark enough and were now ready to harvest. Using his ceremonial stone blade he began to doggedly slice through the tough fibers but his mind was elsewhere.  
The splendor of the mountain mesmerized him like an enchantment but it also set his blood aflame with thoughts of wanderlust, was not unusual for him – he knew he was the only Volkarin to envision a life apart from the great mountain regalith. It made him a stranger amongst his own people. When he had expressed his imaginings in the past – some of the keepers had questioned his very service to the earth. To him the sacred stone all seemed the same, insensate, immune to appeal or reproach - dull and as lifeless as a grave. He had no access to the secret stirrings of power that allowed those like Alaria to use the lore graven into every stone and outcrop to raise flame, read the past and future or call forth energies to be used in their multitude of purposes. His isolation from the vow of he keepers made him separate, alone, an outcast in a village so close that even his own thoughts were a resource that others expected him to share willingly.  
His mother had sensed his difference first and after much soul searching and cajoling concluded that the only path available to him was to learn to conceal his dissension from the way of the Volkarin, to learn to hide the dullness of his senses and pretend to be just the same as the rest of those he called kinsmen. He had learned early to practice the mental disciplines prescribed by his people, chiefly so that when it came time for mental sharing, others would read only his devotion to the standard meditations that they all performed. Still, he had to be constantly on alert for the slightest touch of another mind so that he could immediately begin his meditation ritual to cover his wandering mind. He became so adept that at intervals he would lapse into it without thinking, just out of habit. There had been a few close calls where, Alaria chiefly, would catch him thinking of a life outside of Volkarinon. She would gently chide him and he would feign embarrassment and endure her correction but she always protected him from further scrutiny and perhaps that was the common foundation of their strangely intimate relationship but deceiving those of the only world he had ever known had taken its toll on Kalan and he perpetually found himself on the periphery of the tight-knit society at the roof of the world. He let no one in and permitted no lapse in the mental disciplines he had learned, in the end the chief truth of his existence was that he was alone in a way more abiding than the stone underfoot.

Today was different somehow. The howl of the wind seemed tinged with malice, as if it were ineffably shrieking disaster like a siren call. He looked over his shoulder unconsciously and peered into one of the shadows cast by an outcropping. It was deep and unnatural and after a time it began to move and change shape. The stark shadows that were cast high upon the mountain were always intimidatingly deep but this was something altogether different. Inside the outline of the shadow the world seemed to have ceased to exist, only utter blackness remained. It felt like staring into a deep cave or the spaces between the stars and it chilled him in a way that the wind never could making him tremble. For the first time in his young life, something akin to a tide of panic began to rise within him like a storm and his eyes frantically searched the rest of the party for a sign that they too had sensed the danger. The shadow grew to fill one whole side of the valley they occupied and yet he seemed the only one to perceive it. The wind exploded in his ears and a terrifying sound that he had never heard before crushed him like all the futile weight of the world. Nothing could compare to the impression it left on his senses, it bereft him of sight and sense and hope. If he lived to the end of the earth - he could not forget that sound.  
Alien and horrifying - it vaguely resembled immense granite boulders grinding against one another with a deep bass that continued to build toward some terrifying, earth shattering crescendo. It left him thinking the firmament itself was somehow failing. Suddenly, he could sense a presence coming near where there hadn't been one seconds ago. Impossibly old and seething with a powerful malevolence that made Kalan's heart begin to labor within him. He could tell that the presence was not looking at him and if it ever did - it's mere gaze would destroy him utterly, eradicating even the memory of him in the earth. The simple proximity of the entity seemed to be robbing him of his existence with each breath he took.  
With what he was sure was his final breath, Kalan found himself prostrate with subjection before the terrible force and the only thing he could feel was the cold, insensate stone on his forehead, then he heard the sound coalesce into a single word - his name.  
“Kalan.” – the voice whispered with all the accumulated illness of the world and he died instantly.  
Blackness.  
No awareness.  
Oblivion.  
Suddenly, without transition, there was life again.  
“Kalan” – a different voice whispered. This time, the voice was soft, gentle and familiar and he remembered coolness on his forehead like a balm.  
It was a woman’s voice and it came to him as an atonement. He felt as if he would never be able to put into words the riptide of his transformation from a body of hopeless tragedy to one of living hope but when he opened his eyes, his face was wet with tears of fear or loss, as if he had been weeping the whole of his life.

“You dream again.” He couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement but he jerked himself upright and in the early morning light trickling through the window he could make out Alaria’s face.  
Her high cheekbones, flawless nose slightly upturned and long, coal black hair created a woman of extraordinary beauty by any standard but it was the empathy pouring from the ebon pools of her eyes that calmed him and returned him to sense and self and he was grateful as if she had freed him from a pit of perfidy. She looked at him with her head cocked slightly to one side in a combination of puzzlement and a deep, abiding concern, as she continued to speak,  
“Again?...  something is wrong – this is something more than a dream…”  
She emphasized the word is almost as if she had already concluded what was in his mind and disapproved, but that was not her way. Alaria was a gentle soul, humble and filled with doubts of her own that she would never allow herself to reveal but she like him was damaged in some fundamental way. Her merest look could disarm him and while he might like to take offense at what could be heard as judgement, her countenance could brook no other meaning that raw, open concern.  
“Perhaps a lack of focus on your service has exposed you to this fear..."  
Again he couldn’t tell if it was a question or a statement but he sat up, pulled his boots on and stood up sponging the sweat and tears from his head and shoulders with one hand.  
“Is that your thought?” He asked her as he turned away to don the rest of his clothes. His simple tan tunic was drawn at the waist by a cloth swatch and seemed far to slight for the cold air that steamed from his mouth like a spirit escaping in the frigid heights of the roof of the world. He had never felt the cold before and he knew that the chill in his bones had nothing to do with the iciness of the air.  
Her lack of answer was abundantly more than he needed and sensing it, she turned toward the door to leave,  
“Come – food service will be soon.”  
Before she could make her way through the door, covered with heavy cloth, he stopped her,  
“Wait – how did you know that I was having that dream again?”  
She stopped abruptly in the doorway as if he had grabbed her and said nothing for several long seconds, before turning and with a look that bordered on fear, stated,  
“I worry about you Kalan and I have prepared lore to alert me if any of my charges are in need, especially you.  
Now – come. Prepare yourself. I will see you at fare.” This time she stepped quickly and purposefully through the door and he was left with his thoughts and the memory of a dark sound that made his guts churn.  
Volkarin was a small village on the southern face of Doleman’s Regolith. Fifty or so small, squat stone huts surrounded a central meeting hall that could hold twice the population of over ten score. Some were food handlers, other worked materials and some were gatherers, like Kalan, who collected everything the village needed. Some studied the ancient Wards held by the Keeper of Vokarinon – passed down by the great Land-Mage – Doleman. Acolytes of the Keeper accompanied every foray away from the village.  
At the edge of the village – away from the mountain – jutted a long stone spire some two hundred feet in length called the Landspar. From that vantage point, the tips of the central mountains could be seen breaching the cloud layer like stone outcroppings in a brilliant white snow field.  
The Volkarin had a name for this sight from Doleman’s Regolith above the cloud line – they called it Achaia – the roof of the world. The people of the lowlands called their island world by this name though few could possibly guess at its origins.  
The great island of Achaia was dominated north to south at its center by an immense mountain range capped to the north by the Regolith itself. The great mountain was more than twice the height of the rest of the range which extended southward for a thousand leagues and only the inhabitants of the city of Volkarinon called it home. Nearly every other human being lived south and west of the Regolith, beneath the canopy of the great swamp.  North of that lay the immense upland plain which perpetually drained into the dark swamps of Achaia.  
The towering peak was a place of legends to the lowlanders – it was whispered that the rock remembered every voice and every word spoken upon the surface of the world. It forbade even the hardiest Achaeans from setting foot upon its revered slopes. The mystical nature of the place was not due just to its preternatural beauty but rather to its non-human residents – the Great Dragons.  
Conjured eons ago by the land-mage, Doleman himself, to end the Giant wars and secure the ward which bound the giants beneath the upland plains, the Dragons called the Regolith home as well. On the north slope of the towering mountain where even the Volkarin were forbidden to travel was the great entrance to the Dragon’s throne hall – Regastall. Here the queen Dragon, attended by her court, lived out her eternal existence communicating with the deep roots of the earth itself. Her golden scales were rumored to be able to command the loyalty of any who looked upon them and could shed the damage of any forged weapon. Once every year, at the celebration of spring, the queen dragon’s mate – (Bahamut) –would descend upon the village at the Landspar to receive the sacrifice of the master keeper.  
(What is the sacrifice?)  
Alaria approached the Landspar and as usual, Kalan stood at its base peering out into the endless sea of clouds. To the west, the clouds were as black as his dreams and the reams of lightning were too far away to be heard - only seen. To the east, over the great ocean, the clouds released their grip and the blue-green surface offered itself like a blank canvass for him to paint an image of a better dream.  
“There is much beauty in this world – yes?” Somehow Alaria managed to ask a question without actually doing so.  
“We travel to the eastpoint today – it is a long journey.” She continued.  
“Let us go find the others.” Alaria turned and as she did she tapped her staff against the stone and sang a handful of words until the tip of it issued the faintest white light. As she walked the light brightened and broadened until every thing in her vicinity seemed to share in the illumination. The effect travelled with her as she moved away from him and he found himself alone again in the dimness of the rising sun.  
Looking out at the spar, Kalan tried to imagine the upcoming celebration of spring. That was the one day of the year that Kalan did not wish to be elsewhere. (Bahamut) was taller than twenty men and his platinum scales reflected the light so perfectly that it was difficult to see him even at midday. His simple presence seemed to charge the air with electric peril. At times the great dragon’s glance would catch his own and threaten to unseat his very mind. Its terrible vision seemed to peer through him like gossamer and see both his past and his future. It occurred to Kalan more than once that only the powerful ward of Vanguard – the Keeper of Volkarinon, prevented the platinum dragon from destroying him utterly. Those terrifying eyes would then look away and the feelings would subside and he would once again realize his own foolishness. What possible notice could the consort to the queen have of a simple gatherer?  
Still, the passion aroused in his heart for something beyond his undemanding life in Volkarinon was unquestionable and it lurked behind every step he took at the top of the world.  
Kalan ran to catch up with the rest of the gatherers as Alaria led him and five others up the east road away from the village. The sun had not yet risen enough to illuminate the valley passages that scarred the regolith like a maze. The ever present wind picked up as they left the protective confines of Volkarinon and after several minutes of walking Alaria suggested,  
“My friends – shall we make time?”  
Kalan and the rest of the gatherers nod their heads with a little bow and step into a quick jog. Alaria’s song changed just for a moment and became directed at the small traveling party. Kalan began to feel his step lighten and his breathing calm as their jog continued along the rocky trail. It would take the party a full day, at their current pace, to reach the eastpoint field. 

(Interlude)  
   
Kalan stubbornly began cutting at the root bundle with his stone knife as his thoughts continued to soar with the windstorm that buffeted him like a tempest. A dozen other gatherers like him were spaced out around the exposed valley that Alaria had led them to for harvesting. Alaria was one of only two female acolytes in Volkarinon and her discipline in her craft was unflinching. She stood at the base of the small valley with her back erect and facing into the wind so that her long black tresses trailed behind her like a great mane. Her eyes perpetually scanned the groups of gatherers that were her charge, monitoring their stances and their concentration. In the gentle cobalt flame of her staff she could read their hearts’ intents and even their health if she so desired. Alaria was a beautiful woman by any standard but the dark smoldering eyes that hid behind her high cheek bones seemed to suggest that deep down she did not believe that she deserved her position of authority. They darted continually around the valley looking for shift-ice or unstable screed that might imperil her group. At times they would drop downward to her feet and she would appear as if she were in prayer - seeking to avoid the dangers of her own lore. Quickly they would snap back up to the workers and she would begin all over. This subtle sense of insecurity only served to make her even more determined to prove she was worthy of the trust of her charges and the lore-warden.  
“Hail – Volkarin!” she shouted over the wind.  
“The sun sets on our time here – finish your work."  
The rest of the group looked briefly at her and began to place segments of root into their sacks. As usual, Kalan was finished first and was already making his way down the valley wall when Alaria got her first twinge of power. It started as a slight buzzing sensation beneath her grip on her staff and matured into a persistent urging that forced her eyes upward to the western sky. The sun was splintered by the craggy peaks of the valley but within its glare Alaria could sense a rising power. It was cold, insensate and filled with a malice directed straight at her. It was impossibly old and she had to strangle her urge to scream with both hands. At last she could make out the dim outline of leathery wings and a snakelike lizard body - a Dragon.  
Dragonkind always walked an uneasy alliance with the humans of Achaia. Formed with the earth itself by the Creator in antiquity - the dragons lay dormant for millenia until they were summoned by The Doleman to seal the fate of Kolyma and his giants beneath the upland plains. Unable to refuse Doleman's power they were forced to abide his will. The earth itself had compelled them into service and they could not refuse. Most dragons maintained a deep disdain of humans for this compulsion and suffered the Volkarin only because the earth itself requred it.  
On the lowlands and ineed everywhere but the regalith - dragons preyed on humans and were feared for their great power and size. Many dragons attained the height of ten men and lengths ten times that. It was said that dragons possessed all knowledge and could read the thoughts and hear the words of any man or woman touching the earth. Each race was defined by its color - the emerald green of the deep swamp, the icy blue of the frozen north sea, the obsidian ichor of the dark mountain recesses and countless others. Alaria had seen over a half score dragon races and Vanguard was rumored to have encountered three times that and he the only living human who was not met with disdain by the dragons. The reason for the respect shown to him lay in the fathom-long great sword of the ancients -GIANTFANG.  The intricate runes etched along its length were alleged to be a harbinger of the fate of the dragon race and the eldritch energies coursing beneath its surface, the power to herald its arrival. It was the one relic in all of Achaia that was proof against the great creatures and their wariness was well founded.  
Alaria's blood seemed to chill within her as the ever blowing wind of the peaks fell into silence. The dark shadow passed over her and she caught a glimpse of azure - a blue.  
Blues were well known for their hostility - of all dragonkind only a black dragon could match their contempt for humanity - and this one clearly had the small Volkarin gathering party in view. Her song immediately changed and took on an icy timbre - quiet and somehow deadly - like the aftermath of a lightning stroke. She turned to face the great beast bearing down on her and as she spread her arms the dragon reared up and drew short of her. It landed like a cataclysm of violence and let out a deafening roar that sounded like a thousand icicles shattering at once. The great creature towered over them like a monolith - it was easily five times her height and with its great maw it could have swallowed her whole. Alaria looked tiny and feeble standing before its great bulk but she would not waiver - to do so would invite disaster and she stood her ground.  
Her song continued unabated and the immense blue monster writhed and shifted in front of her as if trying to decide just how to best dispatch her. It lowered its mighty head to her level and brought one of its eyes just inches before her face. The startling unblinking disk was the size a mans shield and into it she projected her voice,  
"Hail - Sky King! B'Neth Alaria - Well met on this sacred slope. We serve the earth together - how may we serve you?"  
The great beast backed away slightly and spoke in the clear slow tongue of humankind.  
"Tiny fleshling - you speak the greeting of dragons poorly! If I had no need of you - I would spill your blood for your lack of grace."  
The dragon turned to survey the rest of the party and they all knelt when it's gaze swept over them. The air was tinged with electric peril and they all stared down directly at the earth beneath their feet.  
"I have need of you lore-warden." The dragon's contempt dripped like venom, "Though you offend the earth with the poverty of your mastery - and one other."  
Kalan secretly despised the Blues, the Blacks and the Greens. Even though they followed the law passionately - they did it with such contempt - it gave him the impression that they were more evil than good. He looked up with only a little more disgust than he intended and found the great blue dragon looking directly at him. He felt a flicker of Alaria's mind almost warning him to humility but it was too late.  
"You manflesh - do you serve any purpose at all on this earth? Perhaps I should send you to your fathers before you find a way to do it harm?"  
The dragon's terrible body snaked around the party as if he intended to crush them all in his great coils.  
"Speak! Or perish!"  
Alaria stepped toward Kalan and raised her staff it's light became more white - less blue - more pure earth lore.  
"My lord - he meant no disrespect! He is a simple gatherer - he can do no harm!"  
The dragon turned his gaze once again toward Alaria.  
"Oh? So you have discerned the future for this waste of flesh - tell me - what do the rocks say will be his fate?"  
Alaria glanced quickly at Kalan as if to scold him.  
"I have not seen the future - great one! But he is under my care - I shall ward over him."  
The great lizard seemed taken for a moment by her boldness but then his countenance lightened a bit and he laughed in a way that sounded like a roar which would have terrified even the bravest warrior.  
"Even a lowly gatherer can find the fate of the world resting on his shoulder if the earth chooses it - wouldn't you agree little one?"  
There was no answer she could give and the entire valley fell silent as the dragon moved around them.  
"Silence is becoming to you - master it and you may yet live."  
"Come. I have a task for you and bring the angry man-child with you. You may need fodder to do what I require."  
The dragon turned and began plodding up the ravine when Alaria shouted,  
"Wait! Who will guide my gatherers back to Volkarinon? They are my charges."  
The dragon seemed to flinch at the mention of the city where the great sword of the ancients was kept.  
The beast turned and growled,  
"I will take your charge when I have shown you what must be done - come!"  
Alaria felt uncertain about leaving a group of gatherers in the care of a blue but no other choice availed her. Warily she followed behind the great hulking creature, Kalan followed as well but his stride belied any concerns he might have had. He seemed eager to do anything other than gather.  
Within several moments they had crested a small peak and she looked back on the group of gatherers huddled over a make-shift fire they had kindled. She was filled with an overwhelming sense that the earth was telling her she would never see them again. Her compulsion to follow the blue dragon was complete however and she did not waver as they crested the peak and dropped beyond their sight.  
Once the party was out of view the great dragon turned and stared at the pair as if they were an offense.  
"You!... Are chosen to rid this mountain of an infestation we cannot reach"  
The way he uttered the word "chosen" made her skin crawl like a foreboding. Kalan looked at her as if he had picked up on a hidden danger but he could not hide the slight smile that briefly crossed his face. Alaria shook her head at him - she knew he had been waiting most of his life for a day such as this.  
Before Kalan could utter a word Alaria turned to the great blue and inquired,  
"May we have your name and our purpose - oh great one?"  
Finally satisfied with the lore that emanated from her like a song, the dragon rose upright as if it were trying to impress the two Volkarin.  
"I am Th'Allasa Timoken  Amberbridge of the line of defenders. I stood on the peaks of this mountain aeons ago when the Doleman called on the very earth itself to weave the barriers of time that imprisoned the dark giants beneath the upland plains. I have been called to ward off dangers to this place by the score yet now a burrow of fire mites is somehow beyond my ken."  
The dragon's irritation was a palpable thing now.  
"You - fleshlings - will be borne to that lair and you will eradicate them from the sacred mountain. Come - mount up now - and be done."  
Th'Allasa lowered his chest to the ground and Alaria could see how the dragon's forearm and wing made a natural handhold for a person to climb up and sit between the scales of its back.  
Kalan bounded up and reached down to offer Alaria his hand. The grin on his face could only be described as beaming and she climbed up to sit behind him.  
"If your smile were any broader it would consume your head - remember humility Volkarin..." she cautioned him.  
"Humility is the only thought you would have in a gatherer - what harm is there in a little adventure?" he asked honestly.  
"Caution manling- adventure frequently consumes the unwary and the ill-prepared. Listen to your keeper - there are worse things than living out your days in the city of the sky..."  
The dragon's words seemed more ominous than their tone indicated almost as if he were deliberately trying not to say something. Before either of them could respond the dragon's great muscles bunched and launched them high into the rarefied air above the peak. One sweep of its wings carried them briefly over the party they had just left and out of sight. The feeling of immense power beneath him erased any excitement Kalan felt and replaced it with a kind of terror that only a man riding a dragon could know. Every shift of direction and beat of wings threatened to unseat them but just as they were about to lose their hold on the immense blue beast - it would shift just enough to place its great bulk between them and the distant ground. After a time the Volkarin came to realize that if the dragon wished it could dump them without a thought and also that they could not fall unless that was its will.  
Soon they settled into a calm reverence for the dizzying heights and began to relax.  
Alaria turned to peer over her shoulder at Kalan and the look in his eyes could only be described as joy.  
END CH1  
   
 


	2. Cavemite

The sweeping of the dragon's wings in the clear cold air of the regalith sounded like the pounding of leather and each stroke drew them higher and higher into the great mountain's rarefied beauty. The pathing of the keepers had never reached heights such as these before and both Kalan and Alaria felt a kind of preternatural thrill that no other Volkarin had ever known. The great beast beneath them was as warm as a campfire and as solid as the firmament of the earth itself as it soared effortlessly through the craggy peaks at the top of the world.  
"See you that cave in the distance little manlings?" the dragon asked.  
Both Kalan and Alaria peered intently in the direction he had indicated but saw nothing.  
It was said that the very old dragon's could see everything that occurred on the face of the world and that no living being could match their ageless wisdom. While Kalan and Alaria strained to see the cave mouth, the blue dragon continued it's ascent.  
Nearly invisible against the mottled grey of the gutrock a small shadow appeared beneath an outcropping. Before the Volkarin could react the dragon pitched downward nearly half a league and Alaria felt as though her insides might spill out.  
The immense creature let out a roar that echoed in all directions like an avalanche. The roar was tempered with something that sounded like a deep buzzing full of undertones. The sound continued to build and resonate like a rising wave while all around them the air began to coalesce like a living thing. The intensity of it sought to unhinge Kalan and Alaria's very minds as energies deep within the earth began to wake.   
The Earthmight.  
As they drew near to the mountain side the air began to crystallize around the mouth of the cave and formed a small pier that would allow the Volkarin to dismount safely.  
The lore of the dragons was unlike that of the Keeper or any other human. It was more innate, less dependent on song or ritual and reportedly much more potent. They truly seemed to be extensions of the earth itself, emissaries that acted when the world chose not to act or could not act for itself. Impossibly old and in possession of sight and sense that humans could only imagine in their dreams, the dragons were ineffable in their lore. They sought no council and served no masters but their own. Kalan's mind swirled at the thought of the great gold dragon, the arch-queen - O'rarria. Surrounded by her court of ancients, she spent her timeless exitence in deep communion with the very heart of the earth. At even the utterance of her full name she would dispatch the great black dragon - I'chanthus - who would snuff out the speaker's life even as the words formed in their mouth.  
It was her power, the first of the great sky lords, that held fast the binding ritual of the Doleman and kept the ancient giants locked in their slumber beneath the upland plains. For over ten milenia they had slept past their planned awakening. Trapped in a hibernation they had devised for themselves but co-opted and made permanent by the Doleman and the great dragons. In all the world only a handful of people outside of Volkarinon could even recall the ancient tales and perils that the terrible land giants represented. Even though the Doleman was not able to destroy them he had purchased a long lasting peace that allowed the world to be restored and to prosper for aeons in that safety.  
As the blue dragon drew near the ice ledge and began to hover, Kalan remembered with awe the great debt owed to these creatures of the ancient world. Even though they seemed to hold such contempt for his kind, he found that he could muster none for theirs.  
With little difficulty, he and Alaria scrambled up the leathery scales of the immense dragon's neck and found themselves standing atop the craggy spines of its head. Th'Allasa's head was uttuerly motionless as it allowed the two Volkarin to walk easily onto the ice. Kalan looked back briefly to take in the sight. A precipitous drop of a thousand paces fell away beneath them into clouds that hid a rocky peril. The stunning blue of the barren sky above made it almost impossible to see the dragon as it arched upward. The roar that it unleashed pressed words into their minds that felt like a compulsion.  
"Do not fail at this manlings... The fates of worlds have been decided by smaller acts than these... I shall return on the rising of the sun!"  
As the two Volkarin stepped onto the gutrock of the regalith once again, the familiar sense of the power of the earth returned.  
The ice did not transmit Earthmight to her - only bare rock. Even through her boot leather she could feel the earth communicating with her. It was subtle but years of training had taught her to be sensitive to it and it carried a wealth of knowledge. From the timbre of the vibrations she could tell how high they were and how far from Volkarinon. She could detect ill intentions from good and could discern whether dangers were near. If she wished, she could drop into a communion with the living earth and never rise again. The earth itself would sustain her and she could live out her days listening to its deep movements.  
Alaria stopped and set her staff into the rock. She craned her neck as if she were listening to a delicate secret and Kalan scanned the cliff face for paths out.  
"Something else is strange here..." her voice trailed away and her eyes dropped as she began to concentrate.  
The delicate blue flame that had warded them against the blue dragon was now white with the pure power of the earth. Her mumbling song seemed to beseach the earth for knowledge of what had transpired here but nothing came. After a time she lifted her head and sighed,  
"The earth is silent... But some power has been exercised here and no slight one at that..."  
"We have no choice but to see for ourselves." Kalan stated flatly.  
When Alaria did not protest, he began moving toward the entrance to the cave. She could sense his eagerness to investigate and a part of her sought to caution him but she knew it was fruitless and in the end they would have to follow the dragon's commands. She relented and followed him in, but his desire for adventure was like an open flame to her earthsense and she vowed to correct him when the time was full.  
The opening was about an arm's span and roughly circular, Kalan would have to crouch to climb through. Alaria continued after him and as they entered, the space expanded. Alaria's song returned to audibility for an instant and the light issuing from her staff grew to illuminate the cave.  
The soft white glow emanating from her turned more amber and was picked up by the solid rock in the room and shed anew into the dank, stale air. It appeared as if a bright light had been lit overhead but there was nothing above to account for it beyond the tongue of yellow flame that danced excitedly atop her staff. She coaxed it a few more seconds and passed her hand above it, she stopped singing and the flame continued on its own.  
"What do your eyes tell you?" she asked expectantly.  
"This stone is newly broken. I give it less than one moon since it was hewn."  
Alaria bit her lip slightly with concern and looked furtively over her shoulder as if she felt the need to leave.  
Who could have done such work this high upon the great mountain? Not men, it would have taken weeks and the assault would have been noticed by the keepers of Volkarinon. Pehaps some rogue mage from the lowlands, but for what purpose? The dragons? Why would they then send the two of them to investigate their own handiwork?  
It made scant sense but she could recall nothing like it in any of her studies with the lore-wardens. The realization that the dragons had elected to choose an acolyte and a pathkeeper over the Vanguard or another lore-master left a pit of dread in her belly that she could not find a way to dispel.  
"There is another chamber after this one, smaller and hap-hazardly made."  
Alaria's lore-fire, their diet of ankira and their habitual meditation put them in contact with the earth in ways that no other mortals outside of Volkarinon could possibly fathom. The rock itself yielded knowledge of the past and gave them direction for the present. The natural world was more than just inanimate matter - it lived and coursed through them like a sentient being - the deep whisper of the living earth. Alaria's devotion to the Keeper's weird allowed her to seek help from the very grains in the stone - to illuminate the dark, to locate food and water, to find her way and even summon the dragons themselves in time of need. Even now, leagues from home, in a strange place, in a darkened cave - they did not feel alone or exposed. The earth was their home and this place was as much a part of it as their own living quarters - they had no knowledge of natural fear.  
As comforting as the embrace of the great mountain could be - at times the earth was silent. It moved as it purposed and acted in ways that men frequently could not comprehend. At times the very ground shook, at others it would pour forth the molten core of its heart. In the history of the land, in times measured in aeons, great ranges of mountains would rise and others ground into the sea and all of it without the consent or even the knowledge of men. So when Alaria poured her percipience into the white flame of earthpower and received no response - she was not dismayed or even surprised. The earth had chosen not to reveal itself and she was free to act as her conscience dictated even though that prospect frightened her more than she let on.  
"Come - let us learn of this place." as she moved toward the next chamber Kalan hurried to get beyond her and examine their path.  
He paused momentarily and lifted his face almost as if he were smelling the air as he let his own awareness extend further away from him, into the dim space beyond.   
The Volkarin had been trained from birth to listen to the forces within the earth as they were manifest. Acolytes worked with the young, teaching them to hear the song of the earth taken up through their own lore. It would start as an aura in their minds eye and soon they would learn to interpret the information as a form of the earth's un-written word.  
Kalan could tell that there was something other than stone or wood ahead, the same way a n...  
(starts with an n)  
It was roughly spherical, the small chamber beyond.  
   
After a brief moment he turned and stated flatly,  
"There is life here..."  
Almost in response to Alaria's unspoken question, he added.  
"...not like us."  
A quick phrasing of power from Alaria and the light from the chamber they were standing in began to creep into the rough hewn space beyond. As it moved, the walls and floor picked up the glow, recast it, and revealed the interior. Claw marks could be seen on every surface and it was clear even to Alaria that the chamber was in the process of being excavated. The absence of anyone or anything removing stone seemed puzzling at first but a small shadow on the far wall seemed to move and be immune to the presence of the Volkarin's lore.  
"Ware..." Alaria cautioned as she stepped forward. Kalan felt like an observer holding his small stone knife that he used for cutting Ankira root while Alaria took the lead.  
His mind immediately ran to the great sword of the Keeper. A small ceremonial dagger offered little comfort, but the presence of other metal blades in Volkarinon was forbidden. Giant Fang permitted no other edged weapons in its proximity. Vibrations from the great sword would shatter lesser weapons within a matter of hours as if it were offended by their mere presence. Briefly, Kalan wished the Keeper's sword were with them to throw back any contest that might arise.  
She stepped toward the shadow and it coalesced into a small, dark sprite-like creature. Grayish brown like the earth, its oversized ears reminded Kalan of the bats that sometimes made their way up to the low ice. Large, oval eyes, the color or blood were without pupil or iris. Its over-sized, clawed hands were made for easily delving through stone but the slight creature was barely up to Alaria's waist.  
Kalan exhaled, visibly releived that there was only a little danger.  
"Cavemite?..." Alaria asked gently.  
The creature looked furtively for a way out of the small space but only seemed more cornered. It made several high pitched shreiks that got higher and louder each time.  
"Alaria..." Kalan started warily, hunching closer toward her.  
She passed her hand over the flame again and it pulsated incaradine several times before steadying yet again. The pulses seemed to descend like a layer of mist throughout the chamber. As it touched Alaria, Kalan and the cavemite, the shrill chirping began to coalesce into meaning.  
"Do not kill...I kill..." the language of the cavemite could now be understood and  its heightened fear began to make it dangerous.  
"We mean no harm - no harm!" Alaria repeated and  make a warding gesture with her free hand.  
"We serve the earth - we have no purpose to(for)you."  
The words sounded strange to her but her confidence in the exactness of her lore was absolute.  
The creature looked for egress and finding none, at last began to calm itself.  
Alaria bent down on one knee and made the welcoming gesture of the Volkarin, arms outstretched at her sides - palms upward.  
"We are Alaria and Kalan of Volkarinon - keepers of the lore and defenders of Achaia. We ask that you honor us with your name and purpose here."  
Alaria took a step backward to give the small ceature space to respond.  
It looked furtively as if seeking to dicern whether she spoke truthfully. A heartbeat passed, then another and the two Volkarin made no move to harm it.  
"...keepers...earthfriends?..."  
Alaria relaxed momentarily but did not stand.  
"Yes." she began,  
"we seek only to learn the purpose of this cave."  
The creature scurried forward almost as if it intended to attack her but she sensed no malice in it and stopped short of her and then remained still.  
Immediately, the cavemite fell upon her like a lost child, wrapping its immense hands around her crouched waist.  
"...alone...dragon...without kin... without word... abandoned... Help..."  
The creature was obviously bereft.  
Alaria stood slowly but the creature did not let go of its embrace.  
"Tell me your name." Alaria encouraged gently.  
Kalan smiled at her capacity for empathy. She was his closest friend and the only one in Volkarinon that could tolerate his lack of discipline and wanderlust.  
She was utterly durable and competent even though her words often revealed a deep self-doubt in her abilities. She was as beautiful inside as she was without. As she brushed her hair to one side and craned her neck slightly, Kalan found himself looking at her instead of the creature.  
In that instant, he couldn't take his eyes off of her. She was beautiful but she had been beautiful yesterday and the day before that. Something had changed.  
As the cavemite began to speak in nervous starts, he felts her percipience flash over him briefly. He immediately stopped thinking about her and hoped she hadn't read his heart in that instant. His face flushed red but in the dimness it could not be seen. Her sense of awareness did not return to him - she hadn't noticed.  
Kalan focused on what the smalll creature was saying, wondering what had just happened.   
"...Tic... I am called 'Tic'... I make soil from stone..."  
Cavemites were known to the Volkarin. Hive creatures that break rock and generate soil to support living vegetation. Usually confined to the lowlands and the elevations below the frostline. The Regolith was typically too refractory for their work and this high up, the small creature was truly out of its element. Separating it from its kind was an act of malice that could only have been perpetrated by dragons. While Alaria sought to find meaning in an act like this, Kalan found his contempt for the dragons only grow.  
"We also have been sent by dragons to this place. The great blue promised to retrieve us at the rising sun. We will spirit you from this place with us and return you to you kin."  
The creature released her slowly and took a tentative step back.  
"... Blue bring Tic... Not return... Stranded for a moon..."  
Kalan stepped back as if a door had just been slammed in front of him. Dragons never acted without reason and nothing he could fathom could account for something this trivial. The lack of any reasonable explanation only deepened his dread and Alaria returned his questioning glance with one of her own.  
Why would a dragon strand a simple cavemite in a cave high up on the mountain? There was no good answer.  
She knelt where she stood and Kalan could feel the exercise of her power in the small space like the unfolding of a blanket. She was extending the aura of protection that warded them both to include the small creature in its fold. At the touch of her power the creatures eyes widened and it rushed her as if it meant to assault her but at the last instant it fell on its face weeping and she place her small hand on the back of its head and whispered,  
"We mean you no harm - little one. I will ward you..."  
Her empathy was undeniable and Kalan's own heart swelled to see such tenderness from his friend but that was her nature, to protect and to ward. It is what drew her to him when others avoided him for his separateness and his lack of focus on his earth service. She could never bear to see another in pain or worse, to see someone who felt alone. It had cost her friends and the respect of some of the elders, it was a weakness in a harsh world but he was glad for it and he could not help but see his own plight in that of the cavemite simpering on the ground before her.  
"We will bid the dragon to bear you from this place when he returns for us. Do not fear..."  
The creature looked forlorn as it slowly raised its head and if it were capable of tears, it surely would have shed them but instead it merely spoke in its rapid and fragmented way about how it had spent the long days seeking a way to return to its lands below. When it had exhausted itself, Kalan and Alaria shared a scant meal while the cavemite drew sustenance from the rock it had hewn from the chamber but still no sense or sound from outside indicated that the great blue dragon was returning.  
They slept that night on the hard rocky floor of the outer chamber made warm by Alaria's lore but the rising sun did not bring the dragon back as it had indicated. When the next day had passed as well, both Kalan and Alaria knew that something had happened to delay the dragon and they would have to find other means to return to their own homes.  
Dragons could be ineffable but if Th'allasa had wanted to return for them, he would have done so or dispatched other helps for them. Since they remained in the cavern, either the dragon did not wish them to be rescued or was somehow unable to do so. The latter thought made Alaria wince inwardly and she decided in her heart that it must be some kind of test. Another cruel joke to amuse their kind or some effort to determine the depth of their Volkarin resourcefulness, undoubtably to some convoluted end that they would never deign to reveal. In any event, they were on their own and would have to find a manner of egress that did not involve dragons.

 

An entire day passed watching the small cavemite pull handfuls of solid granite off o the walls like so much soft clay. The Volkarin had seen the diminutive creatures before but never for more than an instant and certainly never at work. Tic moved precisely as the spirit moved within the rock almost as if he were part of the cave wall itself. Slowly, almost reverently it carried each load to the opposing wall and smoothed it like a gentle lover. The stone merged immediately and left neither seem nor blemish.  
Watching the progress made Kalan look nervously at his supplies but being in the familiar embrace of so much stone kept him from becoming too anxious at least for the time.  
Alaria was another matter, she transitioned quickly to support the small creature with her own lore. He song held an earthen timbre and she seemed almost rapt as she conversed with the earth itself in this small but lore-rich task.  
   
Mite placed there by a dragon. Left to starve.  
No return for kalan and alaria. Mite must find passage. Return to volkarinon to find carnage.  
   
 


End file.
